


Don’t Have to Stand There

by there_north



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Confrontations, Developing Relationship, F/M, Post-Season/Series 02, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-09 02:09:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17398013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/there_north/pseuds/there_north
Summary: 'Ellie’s just exited the back door when she stops dead as Lucy’s intoxicated ramble filters right throughout the backyard.'When Lucy hosts a party (in Ellie's backyard) and accidentally lets slip something about her sister's sex life, Ellie is thrown into the position of defending something she isn't entirely sure of yet herself.





	Don’t Have to Stand There

**Author's Note:**

> So... I'm not sure that I'm a hundred percent sold by this one, but we'll see how it goes.

What the hell is a Good Friday party? Who the fuck has a Good Friday party? Because the last time Ellie checked, _but please_ , correct her if she’s wrong, Good Friday was the day Jesus was crucified and the “party” bit of Easter, came on the Sunday when he rose from the grave. When Ellie will have to get up bloody early to place chocolate eggs throughout the house.

It’s as Ellie’s opening another bottle of wine that Lucy starts walking towards her and Ellie stops debating the Good Friday party, because let’s be honest, of course Lucy would organise one.

“What’d’you think, hey? Ain’t this great or what?!” Lucy grins, motioning to the collection of people in Ellie’s backyard.

“It’s Good Friday, Luce. We’ve just got back from the most depressing mass all year,” Ellie reminds her older sister.

“Yes, but Paul’s here,” Lucy nods towards the vicar, who is talking to Mark and Nige. “So it’s clearly not as offensive as you seem to think.”

Ellie should disagree, but it’s not like she has a right hand seat to God, or had any real involvement with the church since she was seven and played the donkey in the nativity for the third year running. Nobody else wanted to crawl on their hands and knees.

“Look, El. It’s not actually a Good Friday party, it’s just what I’m callin’ it,” Lucy takes a rather large mouthful from the glass Ellie’s just topped up. “It just fitted well with Mum and Dad’s visit and everybody seemed keen to catch up.”

Ellie knows how much everyone was keen. Hence the forty-odd people in her back garden. The usual lot, plus their parents’ friends within the town. Lucy’s house is bigger than Ellie’s – just – but Ellie has a bigger backyard, and Lucy always has the final say, especially when their parents are around.

Bored of her younger sister, Lucy saunters off to gabble away at someone else. Ellie looks across her packed garden, at the people dispersed amongst outdoor toys and overgrown fauna. She’s not even sure she fully knows who a third of these people are. Lucy just kept inviting people, as did her parents. Ellie’s just thankful her parents are staying at Lucy’s, and not here.

It’s times like this that Ellie wants Hardy to be here. After everything in the past two years, she’s become more uncomfortable in social situations, especially around large groups of people she partially knows. When Hardy’s with her she doesn’t have to worry, because he hangs around her and only her, and she’s happy to hang around him.

At the thought of Hardy, Ellie searches the garden for his duplicate, and finds her flying through the air on the trampoline with Ellie’s son. Daisy and Tom seem to be having a competition over who can rebound the other person the highest, whilst Fred stands next to the trampoline cheering them on.

“Higher Dais! Higher Tom!” Fred cheers, jumping up and down, his head tilted back to see above the rim of the trampoline.

Hardy helped Ellie set it up three weeks ago. After an hour of springs shooting across the yard and jamming metal poles together, wrestling with nets and stretching the mat into place, Ellie’s pleased Tom, Daisy and Fred haven’t missed a day without going on it.

She grins thinking about three nights ago when her and Hardy finally got a go on it, once the children were situated in front of the television with chocolate cake. The night was much like it is now, the chill in the air carried by a slight wind, the sun setting and casting an orange atmosphere, but no chance of rain.

Ellie walks towards the trampoline, getting stopped every three feet by another person who wants to say hello, and thank her for having them. Ellie’s rolling her eyes in exasperation by the time she makes it to her destination.

“You look like Dad,” Daisy tells her, bouncing at the knees.

“I’m really starting to understand his extreme aversion to social situations.” Ellie leans against the edge of the trampoline.

Fred has clambered in too now, hence Tom and Daisy gently bouncing around him. Ellie cheers them on as Fred shows her how he, Tom, and Daisy do ring-a-ring-a-rosy, Fred bouncing back up from the force of the teenagers “dropping dead”. Fred cackles with delight, Ellie, Tom and Daisy laughing with him.

 

* * *

 

Ellie stays with the children as people start to leave, coming to thank her before disappearing on a slight haze from the alcohol. Nobody’s consumed as much as Lucy though, who is progressively getting louder and happier as she progressively becomes drunker. Soon the gathering in her backyard has reduced down to less than twenty people. 

“Ellie,” Maggie appears behind her, tapping her shoulder. “You don’t happen to have any sparkling juice do you? Your nephew has found a bottle of vodka and I don’t think it’s best he drinks it straight.”

 _Bloody oath, Oliver._ Ellie nods, “Yeah. I think Paul bought some. I’ll go check.”

“Brilliant! Thanks, petal,” Maggie pats her shoulder again before Ellie heads off inside.

Every surface in the kitchen has something covering it. No space untouched. Food and drinks everywhere, because God forbid someone break the etiquette and show up empty handed. At least she won’t have to cook for another three days.

Ellie finds the bottle of sparkling apple juice in the fridge, amongst more food and alcohol of all types, quality and sizes. Once she’s offhanded the juice to Olly, Ellie makes her way back into the kitchen to try and tidy up a bit. Her mother’s already made comments about Ellie’s lack of social interaction tonight, but she honestly can’t give a fuck. The sooner her parents go back to Somerset, the better. 

Daisy, Tom and Fred come in five minutes after Ellie, commenting on the mass of food and asking who the hell eats this much? Daisy also asks what the hell a Good Friday party is meant to be? Ellie’s exasperated sigh is answer enough.

“What are you up to?” Ellie asks them as she tries to shove another plate of food into the fridge.

“Collecting some balls to use on the trampoline,” Tom replies, rifling through the box Ellie dumped them all in right before people started arriving. Best avoid any broken necks. “We’re going to dodge them.”

“Just be careful with Fred, okay,” Ellie looks at the older children, then notices Fred’s wedging himself to fit under the legs of a stool. “Or don’t worry,” Ellie frowns.

Daisy and Tom laugh as Fred gets his legs twisted in the metal bars and starts cracking himself up.

“C’mon Fred,” Daisy helps him out.

“Aye!” The two-year-old shouts as he accepts a ball from Tom, stumbling over the door step in his hurry to the trampoline.

Ellie smiles, turning back to her task. Fred’s starting copying things Daisy says, which Daisy has picked up from Hardy. Ellie’s even heard Tom saying ‘wee’ and ‘aye’ in place of ‘small’ and ‘yes’. Then again, she did hear Daisy use ‘Christ’ as an exclamation the other day, something Ellie’s always done. 

“You wouldn’t happen to have any paper towel,” Jocelyn is hovering in the back doorway. Ellie jumps a little, snapping out of her contemplation, turning to Jocelyn. “Sorry to be a pain.”

“No, you’re not,” Ellie replies. Jocelyn’s probably the most bearable guest here.  “Just one sec.”

She retrieves a handful of paper towel as she closes all the cupboard doors she’s opened, leaving a box of biscuits sitting on the kitchen floor, because there’s really nowhere else to put them. The noise outside has increased, Lucy still prevailing over everyone else, and there’s more empty bottles than full ones.

Ellie’s just exited the back door when she stops dead as Lucy’s intoxicated ramble filters right throughout the backyard:

“Isn’t dating with grown children a wreck? Oliver reckons ‘m not allowed to go out with one of the Sergeants from th’ station, however my little sister’s shagging the Scot, so I don’t know what he’s complainin’ ‘bout. It’s so bloody difficult, ‘cause there’s always somethin’ your child doesn’t approve of. I thought we was s’posed to disapprove of their relationships...”

Lucy trails off realising that everyone has stopped talking and are now looking back and forth between Lucy and Ellie with shocked gawks on their faces. Ellie just stares at Lucy, trying to keep her face reasonably collected to avoid the unwanted attention. Lucy apprehensively meets Ellie’s hard glare.

“Hang on! What?” Oliver is the first to speak, rapidly changing attention from his mum to his auntie.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” Lucy looks down.

Ellie remains staring at Lucy, not wanting to give anybody else the attention that they’re after.

“Did you just say that…” Olly turns to face Ellie.

Ellie’s seen him shocked a hundred times throughout his life. Mostly over trivial things that probably didn’t require his over-dramatized reaction (she tries not to think about his initial reaction to finding out about Joe). Now, as Olly gapes at her, she realises all the comments he’s made in jest about Hardy were genuine jokes, because right now he looks like he’s been told that pigs can fly.

“Shit, shit, fuck, shit,” Lucy keeps mumbling, still staring at the uneven grass.

Ellie looks to Daisy, Tom and Fred, who have stopped bouncing and are watching the scene before them with resigned looks. Fred, not entirely sure what’s happened, smiles brightly at Ellie and waves. She half smiles back, both in response to Fred, and to try and reassure Tom and Daisy that it’s alright.

They’ve been masters at keeping this secret. To be honest Ellie and Hardy didn’t think they would understand, but Ellie can’t express how immensely proud she’s been of their reaction to it. After all, they did barge in on Ellie with Hardy’s hand down the front of her pants – after they got over the initial shock and disgust, they’ve now turned to relentless teasing.

Ellie doesn’t know she’d have understood if one of her parents was having a sex-and-friendship-but-not dating relationship with someone. Then again, Ellie’s mother didn’t have a trial-crashing affair, or have had her father kill a child.

“She tellin’ the truth?” Mark motions his thumb at Lucy, absolute confusion and possibly even repulsion written on his face.

Ellie looks at the other people around him. They all look mostly confused, but there’s hints of other reactions there too. Beth looks pissed, Chloe amused, Nige is copying Mark, Paul is just shocked, Becca uncomfortable, Maggie worried and Jocelyn looks almost proud.

“Sorry, El,” Lucy embarrassedly looks up at Ellie.  

That tells everybody what they need to know. That Lucy hasn’t just drunkenly got confused, but has told the absolute truth.

“Oh my God! You and _Hardy?!_ ” Olly’s finally accepted it and has moved from thoroughly shocked to slightly disturbed.

“You’re doing what with your boss?” Ellie’s father is the first of her parents to speak.

Her parents are both watching their younger daughter with distaste. _Well, here’s another thing they can add to the list of disappointment from her,_ Ellie thinks. Lucy’s always been their ideal daughter. They call the gambling addiction and rowdy behaviour a reaction to what her husband did. Ellie doubts they’d ever say the same about Ellie.

Everyone’s eyes are on Ellie now, waiting for her to say something, to explain what’s going on. She’s not entirely sure herself what’s going on between her and Hardy, and she really wants to talk to him about this before the residents of Broadchurch.

“This really isn’t the place or the time to talk about this,” Ellie replies to her dad.

She didn’t expect to ever tell her parents, why would she? _Hey Mum and Dad, just letting you know I’m casually shagging Hardy._ Lucy was meant to be the only adult who knew, because it seemed like a responsible notion at the time, before Daisy and Tom also found out. They only told Lucy _in case_ Tom and Daisy found out and couldn’t talk to their parents. Now it’s turned into a fucking mess thanks to that decision.

“Too late now,” Ellie hears Tom mumble to Daisy. They both recoil under the glare Ellie shoots them.

“Is one of you going to explain?” Her father looks between his two daughters. His arms are crossed as he stares them down. _The intimidation’s not going to work, Dad._

“No,” Ellie’s firm.

“C’mon, El,” Lucy pleads with a tilt of the head.

“You can shut your face before I smack it,” Ellie responds, well past keeping calm.

This was none of anybody’s business. It was Ellie’s and Hardy’s, and partially their children’s. Lucy had done a good job of keeping out of it, until now.

 _Where are you, Hardy?_ Ellie looks over her shoulder, as if he’s going to suddenly appear. But he won’t. He’s stuck at work, went back after Mass, to finish reports and evaluations. He took the extra load so Ellie could come to this. How she wishes she were ticking boxes and signing endless sheets of paper.

“How long?” Olly asks. “Because when they said–”

“Don’t you dare imply what you’re about to imply, Oliver,” Lucy stops him, reminding Ellie of another key reason for the secrecy. The insinuations from the trial.

“Alright. But how long?” Olly’s persistent as ever.

 _Bloody journalists,_ the voice in Ellie’s head sounds far too grumpy and Scottish.

“Christmas,” Tom says at the same time Daisy comments, “Five months-ish.”

There’s an eerie silence after that. Even Fred’s become dead still, sitting between Tom and Daisy who are kneeling in the trampoline. Ellie casts a glance at everyone again. Her parents look properly embarrassed by her, Beth looks properly pissed. Ellie can’t tell if it’s because she didn’t tell her – Ellie doesn’t tell Beth anything really anymore, it’s not the same  - or if she’s pissed that Ellie’s shagging Hardy, the rude intruder, or if she just actually still believes Sharon Bishop.

It's become cold outside. The wind is still calm, but the undertone in the air is fiercely bitter. Then sun is setting steadily too.

“Why the ‘ell would you shag _him_?” Mark asks, lip curled.

 _I’d shag him a thousand times over you,_ Ellie keeps the words bitten back. Ellie notices Daisy’s frown deepen to a scowl at the attack on her dad. Ellie cuts in before Daisy can. 

“Oh, I know everybody seems to think he’s walked straight out of hell, but he’s actually not what you all seem to think,” she informs them.

People still resent Hardy for his position during the Broadchurch investigation. His straightforward, unrelenting interrogation of them all. Despite the fact he solved the case, people can’t get past him finding out their deepest secrets. Ellie knows he was blunt and often rude, even she disliked him, but he was doing what he had to.

“He ripped all our lives apart. Interrogatin’ us all, no consideration!” Nige, as expected, backs up Mark. Putting his two cents in where it’s not needed.

“And let’s be honest, he’s kind of an arse,” Oliver tops it off.

Daisy’s gone stone cold, because, whilst she understands her dad has shocking social interaction skills, and excels at being an arse, he really isn’t one at all. Not where it matters. Ellie nods slowly at Daisy, signalling it’s alright, she’s got this.

“He was just doing his job!” Tom exclaims before Ellie has a chance. “And he’s really not an arse.”

Ellie’s father scoffs. “I beg to differ.”

“Of course you do,” Ellie mutters, dragging her hands across her face.

It’s not the first time in the past three days her father, or her mother for that matter, have made a comment about their dislike for Hardy.

“Why are you defending him?” Her father’s voice has raised.

“Sorry?” Ellie pulls her hands away from her face, frowning at her dad.

“Why are you defending him if he’s just your, your…”

“Fuck-mate,” Oliver gleefully completes his grandfather’s sentence.

“Oliver,” Lucy growls.

“If that’s what he is, then he’s not worth it. Why are you defending him?” Her father persists loudly.

Ellie’s hands tighten, scrunching the paper towel she’s holding. She almost sneers back at him, her nose crinkling up as her temple tightens in annoyance.

“He’s my best friend,” Ellie retorts. “Probably my only friend, actually. Because everybody else turned away. Which I can kind of understand, but that means they have no right to comment.” She crunches the paper tighter, her fist punching downwards to solidify her point.

Ellie looks at Daisy, Tom and Fred, who are watching her. She finds comfort in their presence. Something solid before she turns back to the others.

“And to be bloody honest, I’d defend Hardy whether I was shagging him or not! Even if he weren’t my friend, because he’s a good person, and they’re apparently hard to come by these days!”

They’ve gone quiet, not daring to meet her eye. Except one.

“Is that why you’re shagging him?” Her mother raises her eyebrows incredulously.

“Partly,” Ellie’s calmed, needing to say this quietly. “But also because I really like him – I actually think I love him and I think I have for a lot longer than I have been able to admit,” Ellie doesn’t look at her Mum, rather at her boys and Hardy’s girl.

Daisy and Tom both faintly grin, bumping each other’s shoulders in satisfaction. Fred just smiles wildly at Ellie with all the excitement of a toddler. 

“He’s my best friend,” Ellie turns to Lucy.

Lucy nods. Ellie knows somehow, and probably because Lucy’s been fucked over in life too, that Lucy understands.

“Bloody hell. This isn’t.. this really isn’t relative to any of you, aside from Tom, Daisy and Fred,” Ellie looks around the backyard, stopping at the children. 

“Fred!” Fred exclaims his name back. Daisy cracks a laugh as Tom claps his hand over his little brother’s mouth.

“I like Hardy, and Dais. So does Fred,” Tom turns to his grandparents with a shrug. “We’re happy.”

Tom’s feigning indifference, but Ellie knows how big this is for Tom, how important it is to her and Hardy that Tom and Daisy and Fred are happy.

Ellie’s father goes to speak but is cut off by his older daughter, “Don’t talk! Don’t interrogate her! She can do whatever she bloody well wants!”

Their father steps back slightly, clearly agitated by Lucy telling him off.

“I’m sorry, El,” Lucy ignores him, turns to Ellie.

“It’s alright, Luce,” Ellie sighs, knowing Lucy’s genuine. “Just… stop drinking now. Please. There’s been too much said already.” Ellie turns to Jocelyn next, needing to get out of here. “I’ll get you some new paper towel,” Ellie unfolds the stuff in her hands, motions inside.

Jocelyn nods with a smile and Ellie bolts away, escaping the disaster zone. It’s her new tactic in groups, to just disappear. Especially when she’s a target. Like someone else she knows.

 

* * *

 

Ellie bypasses the kitchen, propelling herself directly into the hallway where it’s cooler, darker and out of sight.

“Fucking hell,” Ellie knocks her forehead into the wall, trying to breathe without extreme anger breaking forth. Why the fuck did she just tell them that? Bloody hell. 

“You alright?”

Ellie jumps back at the second voice, nearly tripping over her own feet at the shock.

“Christ, Hardy!” She turns to the figure lingering five feet away.

He looks exhausted, tie loose, mac jacket dragging his shoulders down, hair at odd ends from being tugged at, dark circles. But he also looks concerned, eyebrows knitted with the left one raised, mouth in a tight line, eyes questioning, and Ellie knows then that he’s been here longer than three seconds. He heard the explosion outside.

“Ah didnae mean to listen,” Hardy’s speaking quietly, cautiously.

“Yeah,” Ellie knows he wouldn’t, not outside of work. “Where were you?”

“By the side of the house. I was going to come through the side gate, then Lucy…”

He doesn’t need to explain. Ellie would have turned and ran too if it were possible. Despite this, she still finds the words leaving her mouth before her brain catches up.

“You didn’t come out and help.” It’s more accusing than she means for it to be.

“You don’t need me to save you, Miller,” Hardy replies firmly.

Ellie nods, biting down on her bottom lip, and she believes him. She’s capable with or without him, but having him around is her uncomplicated choice.

Hardy smiles, properly smiles at her. His dark eyes invested as crinkles crease and nose scrunches slightly. Ellie can’t help smiling back and he steps towards her, stopping a pace away.

“For the record,” Hardy looks down then back to her. “Whether you’re unsure or not, it’s alright. I love you, an’ ah have done for a long time, but it’s also taken me a while tae realise it.” He steps right up close to her. “An’ you’re my best friend. Well, I’m certain you’re actually mah only friend.”

Ellie laughs and he joins her, knocking his forehead to hers as his hand picks at the cuff of her sleeve. He smells like tea and the washing powder that Daisy also smells like. She meets his dark eyes, impossibly dark in the half-light of the hallway. He blinks slowly, tiredly. Ellie remembers that his eyes were the first thing she actually noticed about him properly, past the hard and abrupt attitude.

Hardy rocks forward slightly, his nose bumping hers. Ellie blinks back. She’s just as exhausted as he is and she needs him to know.

“I’m sure, not that I’d completely admit it to them. But to you,” Ellie kisses him, a sharp peck. “I do love you, grumpy arsehole.”

He kisses her back, three longer drags that allow Ellie to find some rest from the chaos. Reduce the anger and overall embarrassment she’s experiencing. He smells like Hardy and it brings a sort of safety. Despite him being right, that she doesn’t need him to save her, it’s still nice to know that he’s there. That he’s always near. Not because she needs him, but because they need, and want, one another.

“We’re not just shagging, are we?” Ellie clarifies as they step apart again. Last thing she needs is someone walking in on them after everything.

“No. We’re not,” Hardy responds.

Ellie pauses for a moment, examining him as he watches her, one eyebrow raised and that perpetual frown back in its place on his rather nice face. There’s only been a handful of times that they’ve stayed in each other’s beds after sex, only a handful of times she’s woken up to that frown. It terrifies her as much as it thrills her that she wants it to be every morning.

“I think I want to fuck you for a very long time,” Ellie tells him with a satisfied grin.

“Ach,” he grins to rival Ellie’s. “That’s a given.”

Hardy steps towards her again, about to grab her when the cyclone that’s their children comes thundering out of the kitchen door.

“Mum! Olly’s been doing vodka straight!” Tom’s voice shouts before they’re visible.

“And now he’s trying to crucify Paul–” Daisy collides with her father, tripping them both up as Hardy struggles to catch her. “Christ Dad!” Daisy exclaims as he manages to keep them both upright.

“Oh good! Hardy’s here! Now we can go to the park.” Tom’s been nagging her all evening. Ellie couldn’t leave, and they’re not going out on a public holiday by themselves.

“Unc’ ’Lec!” Fred jumps at Hardy’s legs.

“’Lo Tom, ‘lo Fred,” Hardy says, scooping up her toddler.

“’Lo Daisy,” Daisy mimics his accent, frowning at her dad.

“’Lo Daisy,” Hardy kisses her forehead as he pulls her into a hug.

“Can we go to the park, Mum?” Tom asks hopefully, looking between her and Hardy.

When Hardy nods, Ellie does too. Tom and Daisy eagerly collect up a football and put their shoes and coats on quicker than she’s ever seen. Hardy helps Fred into his and Ellie finds beanies for all the children. Daisy and Tom give her disgruntled looks, but one stern glance from Ellie sends them running out the door with over enthusiastic goodbyes.

“Alright, don’t be too long,” Ellie stands at the threshold with Hardy and Fred. She gives Fred a kiss, then stands to press one to Hardy’s rough cheek. “Have fun!”

“We will,” Hardy takes Fred’s hand and they step out into the fading light. “Say bye-bye, Mummy,” he encourages Fred.

“Bye-bye, Mummy!” Fred jumps and waves.  

“Bye darling. See you soon.”

“Say bye-bye to Mummy, ‘Lec,” Fred tells him with a nudge.

“Bye-bye, Ellie,” Hardy grins at her.

“Bye, Alec,” she laughs, watching them head off after Daisy and Tom, Fred excitedly trampling down the footpath, swinging off Hardy’s hand.

Ellie’s Good Friday last year involved no trip to church, a hangover-quality headache from being up all night with a fevered Fred, being constantly on edge whilst waiting for the conviction court date, and Tom living with Lucy and not talking to her. But it also involved a visit from Hardy, who, for three hours, looked after Fred so that she could shower and go and buy chocolate for the coming Sunday. Ellie remembers the ache of the overwhelming need to cry when she returned from ASDA to find Fred bathed and fed, sitting and reading with Hardy on the couch in Ellie’s shitty flat.

That day, Ellie didn’t think she could appreciate Hardy any more. But it’s now twelve months on, and that day now looks undersized in comparison to now. Still, that day is still so important, because perhaps it was then that she realised she didn’t need Hardy any more than he needed her. Nor did she want him around any less than he wanted her.

“El!” Lucy startles Ellie into turning around. Lucy’s swaying slightly in the hall behind her, grabs hold of the side table for support. _So much for stopping drinking._ “Can I ask you summin’?”

“What, Luce?” Ellie closes the front door and leans back against it, waiting.

It takes Lucy thirty seconds to remember her question, “I’ve been meaning to ask, El. Is he good?”

Ellie resists the urge to kick Lucy out the door she’s just closed. Rather than answer, or kick Lucy fair up the arse, Ellie walks around her leaning sister, heading towards the kitchen. Lucy stumbles after Ellie, giggling to herself.

“Harder Hardy!” Lucy cracks herself up over that joke again.

Except this time Ellie can’t help but smile too. Only when Lucy’s not looking.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Broadchurch and its characters belong to Chris Chibnall and ITV.


End file.
